Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  'That's why you worked so hard when we were first married?' Katie looked stricken. 'Michael, you don't still owe on all that, do you?'

  He chuckled. 'No, only the mortgage on the house. Everything else was paid off years ago.'

  'I never knew. But why sell it? That's your home.'

  'No, it isn't. Where you are is my home. That's just a house in Boston.'

  Her heart stopped, then pounded furiously. Had she heard him correctly? Where she was, was his home?

  'I only bought it for you, sweetheart,' he told her.

  'And I didn't like it.'

  'You made that clear,' he said dryly, his hand rubbing her thigh, his eyes gazing into hers.

  Her finger moved to unbutton his shirt slowly, each button released before moving on to the next one.

  'I was so in awe of you,' she tried to explain. 'You were so good-looking, successful, powerful. I couldn't believe it when you married me. I wanted to be the perfect wife for you. I tried to do what you wanted, but as time went on all we did together was entertain. I got so tired of that. And you were always working, always away from home, and I never saw you alone. And if I did you treated me... I don't know, formally, distantly.'

  She met his eyes, afraid she'd hurt him again, fear clutching her heart that he would tell her something she didn't want to hear. Something that would shatter this delightful moment. Katie felt safe, loved, and she didn't want anything to change that.

  He tapped her chin. 'Don't look like that. I did treat you carefully when we first married. You were so young, I was afraid I'd hurt you, or frighten you. I've loved you for years, Katie, ached with the need for you, but was afraid I'd give you a disgust of me if I came on too strong, so I held back.'

  She spread his shirt, her hands seeking the warm muscles of his chest, her nails lightly trailing down, across his nipple. He took another deep breath, snatching her hands, holding them firmly together against his skin.

  'Our backgrounds are totally different,' he began. 'At first I was uptight in social settings, even when alone with you. Worried I'd blow it somehow and you'd leave. Or your Aunt Margaret would come over and prove herself right—that I wasn't the man for you.'

  'I think we were idiots, both of us,' Katie asserted. 'You under-rated me. I'm not so fragile. Your— umm—advances to me here in Key West are much more enjoyable than our lovemaking the last year in Boston. Did Key West liberate you?' she teased.

  His hand released hers and moved again against her silky leg, stopping inches from where she wanted him to be. She looked deep in his eyes with love and trust. She could only think of his hand, of the bed on which they were sitting and that they loved each other.

  'Seeing you here, I forgot the formal young woman I married. You looked brown and strong and lusty.'

  'Lusty?' She smiled in delight.

  'Lusty! I'd been sick with fear with you gone, and what with the relief, I guess—whatever, I just didn't hold back any more. But I've loved you all along, and was delighted when I could see you every day. You were so delicate and beautiful. I worshipped at your feet.'

  'Silly.' She kissed him, biting gently on his lower lip, tracing it with her tongue, daring to express her love in ways she hadn't before. 'I don't want worship. I want love, your love. Since you came to Key West, I've not thought of another thing. All you do is touch me, kiss me, and I'm consumed by you. It's glorious.'

  She fell silent a moment. When his hand began to move again, she stopped it. A warm glow, tinged with sadness, spread through Katie. Sad for all the time wasted, she looked up at him. 'A lot of time wasted, don't you think?' she said. 'I should never have left you.'

  'Not wasted exactly. But a learning experience. That day in Miami, what you were saying finally penetrated. I'd been building Donovan Construction to support you in fine style, the way your aunt wanted. But you didn't care for that; you wanted a family, a mate to share your time with. I rode roughshod over you, thinking I knew best, when all you wanted was to be considered.'

  She nodded.

  'It's easy, once you stop and listen. You should have made me listen years ago. I'd done it all for you—worked hard, moved ahead, and it wasn't what you wanted. Incredible as it seemed to me, you wanted time, not money. Only, when I put the company in the hands of others, it seemed you still didn't want me.'

  'I didn't believe you,' she said. 'For so many years you've put the business first, I just couldn't believe it. Only when you came back, and had nothing further to do with it, did I begin to understand. I don't want you to give up your company, Michael. Not for me. Just don't spend so much time there.' She traced his jaw, daring to peek into his eyes. The warmth and love she saw there caused her heart to beat faster.

  'Katie, what we have now is much more powerful than what we had the last few years. I want to spend time with you, want you with me.'

  'I never grew completely up in Boston. I was so sheltered. I believe I have grown up here, on my own,' she told him.

  'And I'm glad you did.' His hand moved again. 'When we go back, things will be different. I won't spend so much time away from you, so much time on business. I've learned there's more to life than just business. When I thought you'd gone, the company held no meaning for me. I started out to make money for you. With you gone, it holds no appeal.'

  'What about Frances?'

  'I told you, she's retired. If you need help, you can get it. But for a while I'd like it to be you and me.'

  Katie warmed at that thought. Smiling dreamily, she envisioned the two of them together. Doing things they both liked, sharing their lives. Only one thing still marred the perfect resolution.

  'And Elizabeth?' She had to know.

  He smiled. 'Jealous, were we?'

  She nodded, her smile rueful.

  'Then my plan worked. I was at my wits' end. I tried talking you into a cruise—no go. I tried threats—no go. Even bargaining with you, for Jim's future. Still nothing. Elizabeth was my last ploy. If it hadn't worked, I might have had to believe you—that we were through—and I fought against that.'

  This was the man she knew. He was determined, focused, going after what he wanted with no thoughts to others. For once, Katie was glad he was that way, and that she was what he wanted; but she gave a brief thought to Elizabeth, hoping she would not be deeply hurt by Michael's actions.

  'But you bought her a bracelet.' She closed her eyes when the words slipped out. How could she tell him that?

  His chuckle opened her eyes. He stood her on her feet and motioned to the dressing table.

  'Top right-hand drawer. Go on, look.'

  She opened the drawer and drew out the black velvet pouch. Spilling the contents out to her hand, she smiled at the delicate conches strung together to make the bracelet. She looked over at him.

  'I thought they were pretty; I wanted them for you,' he said simply.

  She walked over to the table by the window and snapped off the light.

  'What about the house?' she asked.

  'The old one's for sale. We'll decide where we want to live and buy a house together.' His eyes followed her as she walked to the wall-switch; one strap of the dress had fallen from her shoulder and the tanned skin glowed in the remaining light.

  'And furnish it together, too?' She snapped off that light.

  'As long as you make it as welcoming as your apartment,' he said.

  The soft light reflected through the sliding door enabled Katie to see her way to where Michael sat.

  'One more thing,' she said as she drew to a halt before him.

  He reached up and slid the other strap of her dress down her shoulders, slowly peeling the dress from her.

  'Babies,' he said.

  'Babies?' She was surprised; that had not been what she was going to say.

  'I want lots of babies with you, sweetheart. Ever since you said that at the restaurant, I've thought of little else. I want to make babies with you and only you, Katie. We'll fill our house with them, starting tonight, maybe.'


  He stood beside her, shrugging out of his shirt, and reaching for her warm, welcoming body. She felt as if she had come home. This was Michael, the man she had left to find again. Happiness and joy would be hers now and forever. She hadn't lost him, after all, but had gained even more with him now than they had ever known in Boston. Their future looked bright. They would love each other, share their lives together and build a family conceived in love.

  'The divorce?' she said just before his mouth covered hers.

  He stopped, his lips only inches above hers.

  'Oh, that—well... I told the attorneys to forget it when I came back to Key West. What I have, I hold...'

  THE END

  Island Paradise

  By

  Barbara McMahon

  © Copyright 2012

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mary-Kate was startled awake to the sounds of snarling dogs and male voices yelling. For an instant she froze, lying perfectly still, trying to figure out what was happening, where she was. Her heart pounded, her breathing was shallow. She was afraid to move. Was there danger nearby?

  The heat from the sun caressed her back; the fine white sand beneath her felt like talc as her fingers moved across it. She lifted her head slowly and surveyed the palm-fringed beach. Of course, she was sunbathing on a deserted beach on one of the small islands of Fiji. It was the men's voices raised in anger that had disturbed the tranquil setting and woken her.

  She heard a motor roar, and scrambled up, frantically reaching to refasten her bathing suit strap. She had untied the top so as to have no tan lines on her back. Her fingers fumbled in her haste, and she dropped the string. Found it again.

  The skimpy hot-pink bikini was not sold in Ames, Iowa. She'd splurged on it in Suvu before she'd met the boat there. Today was only the second time she'd worn it. She was too modest to wear it as casually as the bronzed women of Fiji, but the deserted beach had seemed safe. She wanted a good tan, but was terribly self-conscious about the amount of skin the suit revealed. It would have been downright risqué in Iowa, but apparently was the norm in the south Pacific.

  If her students could see her now, they'd be shocked. She grinned, remembering the feeling of recklessness that engulfed her at the store in Suvu. This was the most daring piece of clothing she'd ever purchased. She didn't know if it was because no one knew her here, or that the warm tropical air caused everyone to be more casual. This was her summer of daring adventure and the suit fit right in.

  The yelling ended, but the dogs continued to bark; the sound of the motor gradually diminished. What was going on? Mary-Kate grabbed her towel and her short cotton wrap, thrusting her feet into her sandals. The others from the boat party had been around the jut of land that cut her off from them, in the direction of the noise. She had to find out what was happening.

  Running was impossible. The warm sand gave beneath her every step; the hot, humid air was like a wall she had to push through. Mary-Kate settled to a steady but quick pace, veering toward the water to walk on the firm, damp sand. It seemed to take ages to reach the point, round it and head for the other beach. She'd wanted to be alone after dealing with the recalcitrant teenagers all week. She hadn't thought she'd gone that far.

  Another engine started, then the noise began to fade and then nothing but silence and the soft lap of the ocean against the sand. Finally rounding the headland, she had a clear view of the beach. Pristine-white sand stretched out endlessly, tall palms swayed in the ocean breeze, and the blue water gently kissed the empty shore.

  Mary-Kate stopped, stunned. Her eyes darted everywhere. Where were Rob, Terry, and Margie? Where was the small dinghy they'd used to come ashore? Panic gripped her. Where were they?

  Her eyes turned to the bay, seeking the sleek white yacht. She could barely make out the small dinghy as it approached the larger vessel. When it nudged the ship, the people on board scampered up the side. Even as she watched with disbelieving eyes, the dinghy was raised on the side to its position. Slowly the yacht's bow turned away from the land. The ship was leaving! Picking up speed, it headed for the open sea, its bow cutting through the blue water, its wake deep and wide.

  Leaving without her!

  "Rob!" she yelled, furious they'd go off and leave her behind. How could they do that? Yet she knew even as she called his name that he couldn't hear her. The engines of the yacht were quiet, but not silent. The distance was too great.

  She waved her towel, its shocking-pink color easy to see against the white sand and green foliage edging the beach. Surely they would look back? Surely they'd remember she'd accompanied them ashore? They had to come back for her.

  The boat did not turn, did not slow. Gradually it grew smaller and smaller. Until it was gone over the horizon.

  "Damn! And double damn!" Mary-Kate stamped her foot on the soft, hot sand and stared at the horizon with mingled anger and stunned disbelief. She'd never expected anything like this! What was she to do now?

  This was to be her grand adventurous summer. She'd planned to be totally carefree and bold, returning to her normal, routine, predictable life in the autumn, with wonderful memories of tropical beaches to treasure all her life.

  Except being stranded on one of those beaches had not been part of her dream.

  Shaking out her towel, she folded it and looked once again to the empty bay; no help from that direction. Mary-Kate looked around, taking stock of where she was. They had approached this island from the sea. It was one of many islands scattered around the larger islands of Fiji. Some were inhabited, some not. Suddenly she hoped this was one of the inhabited ones. She considered staying on the beach in hopes they'd discover her gone and return for her. It was hot. She looked at her tote; the empty bottle of water mocked her. She hadn't planned on being stranded. Maybe she should see if there was a road that led to a town.

  She looked behind her. The ring of palms seemed unbroken, though none grew so close to its neighbor that she couldn't easily walk between them. Would there be some tropical waterfall she could get water from? Or a road that leads to civilization. Thinking about it, she'd known they had not brought a dog to the island, so someone else was around. Maybe even lived here.

  Debating what to do, she considered her options. Wait here in the hopes they realized she was not on board and returned. Or go find help.

  Knowing those teenagers, they'd conveniently forgot they brought her to the island. The likelihood of them worrying about her was small. It could be dinner before anyone else onboard realized she was missing.

  With a last look to the empty sea, she sighed in frustration and marched toward the palms. The sooner she got in touch with the yacht, the sooner it could return for her. She'd hike out to find what she could on this island, and hoped there was a town. If so the police there could contact the yacht.

  She slung her towel over her shoulder, her only other covering the white gauzy cotton cover-up she'd bought when she'd bought the bikini. The filmy material was full and gathered; first it hid then revealed her body encased in the bright pink bikini. It did not offer much shelter from the sun.

  She'd found the hard packed road only a few yards from the beach. It stretched out in both directions, ending only when making a turn in the distance. She looked right and left. To the left were tire tracks. Nothing to the right. Choice made.

  Mary-Kate had been walking for almost ten minutes, questioning her decision with every step. Blotting the perspiration from her face with her towel only reminded her how hot it was away from the water. Leaving the palms behind, s
he came unexpectedly to fields of tall sugarcane growing on both sides of the road, giving a tunnel effect as she walked along; the tall cane shut off any breeze and funneled the heat from the sun directly on her head. The hot dirt reflected more heat and puffs of dust exploded around her ankles with every step.

  Fervently hoping she was going toward some place where there were people, she trudged along. She glanced at her wrist—no watch—it was on the boat.

  "Along with everything else I have," she muttered. "I wish I had my watch. Damn, if I'm wishing, I'd really wish I was on the blasted boat and had never left!"

  She was hot, sticky, tired and growing thirstier with every step. Her short brown hair felt limp and bedraggled. She knew her face was probably as red as a beet from the heat. As she walked, her anger at the Lombard’s, and Rob in particular, grew. The summer had not been the bed of roses she had expected. He and his friends had been rude, selfish, and inconsiderate. She paused, wishing she'd been a teacher of English instead of math—then she could think up dozens of adjectives to describe the obnoxious college students she'd been hired to tutor.

  His parents had been no better. They were scatterbrained and impressed with their own wealth, constantly bragging about how much everything cost, and how nothing was too good for their precious son. Their idea for Mary-Kate to tutor Rob in mathematics during the cruise was a pipe dream.

  Mrs. Lombard had no sense of discipline, wanting her only child to enjoy himself. The idea of a tutor had been to appease the school, to show some sort of good faith that Rob could pass the basic mathematics test required for a degree. He didn't care to work at it, and his mother drifted through life expecting everything to work itself out without the slightest bit of effort on her part.

  Mr. Lombard was constantly tied up in the small communication room, tracking his vast wealth, acquiring more, and totally unconcerned with his son, wife or guests aboard the luxury yacht.